Transformers: Break Down
by Anceylee Star
Summary: Megatron has been assumed dead for over 500 years, several old Decepticons have perished in battle over the years. Starscream has taken over, and is inevitably winning, yet a few rebellious 'Cons feel that an old leader needs to rise. Part 6 is finally up
1. Rising

Transformers: Break Down. Summary: Megatron has been assumed dead for over 500 years. Starscream is the commander of the Decepticons, yet a few rebellious Decepticons feel that an old leader needs to rise. A series I'm trying to design, so bear with me!

Okay, so I've been thinking recently on Transformers (as if I already don't do that… psch.) And it all started with this: I wonder what would happen if Starscream actually got to be commander. : 3… Call me insane, but I loved the idea of little Screamer being the big honcho.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, nor do I own its copyrighted characters, and in this story, they are Optimus Prime, Megatron, Starscream, Jetfire, and Demolishor. But since I didn't want to reuse names (since this is supposed to be my own little series) I created an original cast of transformers. But the above listed Transformers (along with Cybertron and all its cities) are copyright of whatever uses them. I don't know that well… Who gives a care on that anyway… chased by police for that last comment

I do own the following original characters: Bluestrike, Vault, Gravezone, and many more to come.

Okay, on to it now!

* * *

Transformers: Break Down

**Part 1: Rising**

The sky erupted in a shower of sparks, the form of a large spacecraft, came crashing down to the dusty surface of the planet. Roars, or more of cheers, erupted at the satisfying clash of metal to ground, the craft burst with the impact, breaking and exploding, debris was flying like miniature meteors over the dark sky.

Just approaching the wreck was the robotic form of a flyer, red, blue, white, and black. What would be a nosecone was split in half, each piece mounted of the shoulder, connected to two white jet wings, encrusted upon them the Decepticon insignia. Blood-red optics shone brightly in malevolence. The face held a smug smile at the sight of the ruin, flames licking up to the sky in the very chaos of the scene, gunfire going off at random (and close together) intervals, engines screaming through the air.

"Lord Starscream!" a mech voice yelled over the mental radio connection.

Starscream recognized the voice, and so replied, "Report, Gravezone." The commander looked around, the place was clear of Autobots, which meant they were now retreating, or else too scared to get near.

"We have them on the run. Should my squad take out the stragglers?" the mech replied, a rather giddy tone drawing up.

"No. Let them flee." Starscream retorted, looking over the battlefield, "Save your energy, and gather up what we won. We'll return to Iacon within the day." Starscream shut off the radio bluntly, getting across the point there would be no chance for argument.

* * *

Iacon was indeed under current Decepticon rule. Though not what any on-looking Autobot would expect. It was actually lively, thriving, and the center of the D-con empire.

* * *

Laughter boomed boastfully in the hall, table upon table set up across the large room, energon cubes stacked in mounds upon whatever flat-surface there was. Mechs charmed Fems with no effect. The warriors, most of which of high rank, enjoyed a great bounty, and with good reason. Their last victory gave them control of the energy supplies upon Speed Planet; the Autobots had been outnumbered, and their forces easily took down their fleeing ship. 

It seemed nothing even remotely threatening had happened within the past year. It was great news. It meant one thing:

The Decepticons were winning.

Slowly but surely, the Autobots were retreating from Cybertron, dying, being killed off and captured.

Well, amongst the entire ruckus, there were a few calm spirits in the room of celebrating transformers. In the very end of the room, upon a non-surprising steel throne, hand to his chin, played over the seat, the very one, Starscream. He watched the surrounding, a curt smile on his features. Just beside him, in a pulled up chair, a black and grey flyer, Attached to his black, cylinder arms were his grey-cast wings, a deep grey face embedded into a black, snug helmet. Two stern, as stern as the commander's beside him, optics watched the scene with as much power. Both rested easy, more or less, just plainly glad at the victory.

Wouldn't it have been great if ALL of the Decepticons were celebrating?

* * *

A dank area of land stretched over the scene. The only objects left were the fallen debris and the many corpses of rotting transformers. 

"I don't like the odds, Bluestrike." A femme's voice sighed.

"You know as well as I do that a spark can last a thousand years if the body isn't horribly damaged with energon still in it. It's stasis lock, REMEMBER?" a male voice hissed back.

Two Transformers pulled themselves drudgingly to the top of a large scrap pile in the battleground. One was small and thinly proportioned, while the other tall and well-built. The smaller was of a blue shell with white and black details, while the larger with arms built of rotary tracks, like that of a human-built tank. The shell of this one was purple, yellow, and deep green.

Both scampered down again, careful in the dark of night on Cybertron, upon an abandoned field.

"Vault! Move your aft!" the male voice jeered again, "I'm getting very, very light energon readings."

"Well, I did have that cube before we left, Bluestrike, I eat when I'm-"

"Not that!"

Both slowed, they caught the glow of the moon, the smaller one pointed over to the northern end of the field, "Vault. There it is."

"You sure, Blue?" She whispered.

Bluestrike, the blue one (as his name explained) nodded curtly, almost skipping to the point, Vault, the tank-like femme, followed clumsily. She was not suited for such terrain! And the little Decepticon she pursued knew it. She would much prefer to transform and get moving, but than she had the risk of causing more noise, not to mention her tracks were large, and ran the chance of running over something that they needed.

Bluestrike slowed to a crawl, his wrist compartment open, a soft glow resonating from it, bleeping softly, but the tempo of it was slowly increasing.

"We're close." Bluestrike said, a grin stretched from audio to audio.

_To Be continued..._

* * *

Oy, sorry it's so short so far. 

I just started, and it's late, and I'm too anxious to** not** post it. Don't worry, will include Autobots later... But I'm suddenly obsessed with Decepticons...

And I'm also trying to avoid using old names and making up new characters. Any affiliation to any existing characters of TF that bear resemblance in name and additude to my OCs is completely accidental, forI know only of a couple series, and the characters from those series...

I love reveiws. Please do so. My computer likes reveiws, too... Feed the computer... TT


	2. He's Back

Oy, uh… intro for now… uh…

Summary: Someone is back, and not oh so pleased.

And as to it being after G1…. Uh… I dunno… It may well be, but I haven't thought much on that yet…

Disclaimer: Do I even have to do this? Oh, alright. I don't own Transformers; I own Gravezone, Bluestrike, Gundraw, Roadstop, and Vault. Happy?

* * *

Transformer: Break Down 

Part 2: He's back…

Bluestrike practically hopped the last few yards, the femme following him trying to keep up to the little Decepticon. The small screen on his wrist was beeping even faster as he treaded over the debris.

"A bit farther…" he muttered lightly to himself. He stopped; the beeping had turned to a high-pitched screech.

Vault looked over his shoulder, than up to the scene in front of them, "Where is he?"

Bluestrike scanned over the spot with his optics, taking a few cautious steps forward, than looking to the ground. His grin grew even wider; he turned to his larger companion.

"Give me the container, Vault. And start digging."

The femme obeyed, pulling a large container from her subspace pocket. It was somewhat similar to a jar, but metal entrapped where its lid and bottom would be. She handed to Bluestrike, who took it, and stood back, letting his partner get to work.

Vault looked at the scene, trying to find the most tactical way of removing the scarps. It was basically a large mound of spare parts, metal, and about anything a scavenger would want.

After a moment of examination, she reached out, grabbing a corner, and tearing it aside, the piece landed a few meters away. With rather incredible speed, she began to sift through it, Bluestrike took a few steps back to avoid flying shrapnel. Within the minute, Vault began to slow and tantalizing remove the last few pieces of the mound.

"Bluestrike!" she yelped, almost happily, "I found him!"

The small Decepticon leaped forward to look, bending over the pile. His mouth hung open in ecstatic pleasure.

"Finally…" he whispered hoarsely, "The great Decepticon leader. Lost and never found for 562 years…"

Vault looked back down on the sight, she felt almost as joyful, though to an onlooker, it would look like something from a horrible dream. From below the old scrapheap, a body lay. Of course, the place had long been abandoned as just another battlefield, and the worst at that. The body itself was whole, though creeping rust formed on every edge, the once proud silver form was laid in a formidable position, a large laser shot had been fired into the abdomen of the form, and debris had settled over it for 500 years. Only one thing mattered to the duo, though…

It was Megatron, and his spark was still beating.

Both had always strangely believed that Megatron's spark was stubborn enough to never give out for centuries, and it seemed true. Even if everyone had forgotten of their illustrious leader, he would still live, even if he could never use his body. Oh, no. there was too much rage against too many to ever die so simply.

"I can't believe it, Bluestrike!" Vault muttered, almost speechless at such a sight, "No one even knew his body still existed. He must've been covered almost right after put into stasis lock… Oh, wow… Look at him."

"We're not here for the body, Vault." Bluestrike curtly replied, and reached forward to the corpse.

It was no Bluestrike's time to work. He reached to his subspace pocket, pulling forward a set of tools; he put the container, which would soon contain a spark, to his side. He put a hand to the worn-down chest, and reached over with his soldering tool. It'd be easy enough to break the shell, which he did within a few tedious minutes, cutting three sides of a square into the chassis. His black fingers tore it back with a satisfying screech of metal. His hands started to dig into the chest, pulling aside wires and circuits; none of it was too important. The very essence of the almighty Megatron was in the spark, memory and all.

Bluestrike paused, having torn away every wire and pump before the casing. He could almost hear the pulse of the spark. He at last pulled the casing's cover away, both becameshowered in a very dim, blue light.

Vault squealed in joy. The spark was whole, and still there! Oh, what a day! Bluestrike's face was written with wonder. The spark was small and feeble. It had surely been drained after so long in stasis lock, and probably sparse in using its supply of depleting energon. But it was there, right before them.

The small transformer pulled an extractor from the set of tools he had, and reached its prongs tediously into the chest of Megatron. As soon as the device pulled it away, it started to shrivel ever so lightly. Bluestrike gasped, and gestured for Vault to get the container for the spark before it died. The femme struggled, pulling away the lid, and holding it out for the essence to be put away within its walls. Bluestrike swiftly dropped the spark in, and Vault replaced the lid.

The Femme looked at the spark held in the container with awe, but the small Decepticon beside her swiped the jar away.

"This is only temporary. We need to get it into the shell we have soon…" Bluestrike cooed, staring at the spark, his ghost-white face cracking into a dark smile.

* * *

Optimus Prime gripped his head in distress, leaned over a desk, staring at a computer screen before him. His posture had disappeared after the past few hours, wracking his mind over the battle plans and statistics. He could not understand how Starscream could be able to formulate such… he dare not think it… PERFECT battle strategies. Before Megatron had been killed, Starscream was brash, bold, and rather… dim-witted. At least… in battle. He acted before his mind figured things out. And even though there was a bumpy start when the flyer became the leader of the Decepticons, but now…

It was driving Prime crazy! Every move he made, Starscream countered. And their forces were breaking slowly. Soon, to no doubt, they would be forced off of Cybertron completely…

The door to the office slid open, Optimus, having been in such a trance, jumped almost literally, a holo-pad skidding off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. He looked up, somewhat blinded (You would be too if you were in a dark office for hours and than saw a bright light!) He made out the form of shuttle transformer.

"Come in…" Prime muttered, gesturing lightly for the Autobot to come in.

"Optimus…" sighed the Transformer as he walked in, his voice was deep and gritty, but it was still a comforting tone, "WHY are you still up?"

"I'm… uh… just trying to finish reviewing the battle on Velocitron."

The shuttle, a blend of brassy-green and white, face hidden behind a visor and mask, leaned against the doorway, rubbing his head with one hand, a deep sigh working up from his vocalizer.

"Optimus… It's the middle of the night."

"I know, Jetfire. But this is too important…" The red and blue Autobot muttered back, stress and exhaustion echoed in his voice quietly, "I'll be done in a bit."

Jetfire shook his head, "Listen, Commander. You've got to get a good recharge in ya'. Energy deprivation doesn't help you very much; in fact, it makes you look like slag."

Optimus Prime mumbled something incoherent, raising a hand and gesturing from his second to leave. Jetfire took a few steps in, arms folded squarely over his rounded chest.

"Why don't you let Gundraw, or maybe even Roadstop, handle this? They could summarize it up for you in the morning." Jetfire suggested kindly, for he knew sometimes it only took a bit of loosening the poor guy up enough to fall in to suggestions.

Optimus grumbled quietly, turning the screen of his computer off, "Alright, Jetfire. Just let me-"

"When was the last time you recharged?" Jetfire interrupted curtly.

"27 hours ago?"

The second sighed, "Okay, OUT."

* * *

The door creaked open, in walked the ever cautious Bluestrike, and followed by Vault. It was the lab Bluestrike had designed, and Vault built. Sure, it took a few days (rather slow in Transformer time…) but it was quite worth it. Only the two of them and a few other Decepticons knew of this place.

The small transformer pulled the jar from his subspace, still holding the frail spark. It was slowly regaining strength in its current container. But not for long.

"Vault!" Bluestrike shrieked, "Get the shell out, get its systems online."

The Femme jumped, jogging to the other side of the small and cluttered room. The place was very dark, and not too clean, for that matter. Broken parts were littered over the ground, scraps and transformers parts laid strewn over tables and shelves. It had taken them a few years to build a suitable, sturdy, powerful, and frankly wondrous shell, one they knew would befit their old commander.

Vault looked to large, titanium casing. It looked like a large cocoon, elongated and heavily built. She ran her long, thick metal fingers over the row of buttons along its side, and finally, pressed one.

With a slow hiss, the casing slowly began to fall away, revealing the empty, but definitely impressive transformer shell. Over the black chest was the Decepticon insignia emblazoned brightly in royal purple. Strong purple and black arms and legs of the same color scheme. Rotary tracks made up the upper legs and upper arms, and the thick legs where topped with heavy-round missile launchers. The head was slim, strong, and covered with a black, heavy helmet, contrasting brightly to the mildly grey face.

Bluestrike walked over, still with the spark in hand. He reached over to the Transformer laid across the current table which the cocoon had revealed. The chest compartment opened almost automatically. The circuits were already pulled aside for the next procedure.

The lid to the spark container opened. Gently, prongs pulled the bright orb from the confines. Bluestrike lowered it down into the cavity of the shell. The mech tossed aside the empty container. He reached forward, slipping a hand into its chest. Bluestrike could feel the warmth off the spark, and pulled the cover closed over the light. The bath of blue light ended. The Decepticon began to shift circuits into place. And then, the chest cavity closed, even though the shell remained motionless.

"Vault. Activate." Bluestrike barked.

_To be Continued..._

* * *

_Yay!_ Slightly longer!

I like short chapters...

Thanks for the reveiws!I luv them. And for Han Solo: No, it isn't Thunder or Warp. Like I said, I tried a fully original cast because reusing names sometimes bugs me...


	3. Power Returning

Summary for the Chapter: Megatron is most definitely back, and with a cunning plan to become Commander again. And keep the reviews coming!

Authors Note: Starscream's Null laser is now a portable gun! I've never watched G1, but I know some bits of it. It can be considered after G1, or Armada, or Cybertron. I really don't know…(Though**most likely**G1.)And I am also rooting for Screamer in my own head. (squeal)

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. I own Gravezone, Bluestrike, Gundraw, Vault, and Roadstop. And for those of you who wonder about all aside from Vault and Bluestrike, they're gonna appear extensively soon. Especially Gundraw, who comes in this chapter...

Also, beware. There is very light,cute,fuzzy stuff. No slash, but just a heads up.

* * *

Transformers: Break Down 

Part 3: Power Returning

Vault held back a stifled squeal of happiness. The body upon the table surged, limbs convulsing as a large store of energon began to flow through the shell. It would only be a few moments longer before it was done…

The whine of working energy grew strong enough to make the two Decepticons clutch their audios in irritation. Bluestrike swore he saw electricity crackle over the armor in a small wave. It was an exciting scene, but within a second, the whining of overloaded systems died down, the noise ceased.

Both looked down at the shell. It didn't move. Surely, nothing was wrong with it? Bluestrike groaned in disappointment. Maybe one of his calculations was wrong, or maybe he connected a wire wrongly.

"No! I did everything perfect!" the little blue bot yelped, "It's not working! But I put everything in right! The ghost program was working! So was Th-the memory upload, and the fuel pumps! I even POLISHD THE ARMOR! Maybe I added in the M-5A circuit wrong!" he gasped out psychotically.

Bluestrike reached over, ready to pull aside the chest armor to examine the chest cavity once again. But he shrieked in fright.

A black hand seized his wrist…

**CRASH**

It took a few moments for his CPU to process what happened. The small bot looked up; his optics kept trying to focus, but couldn't. He very soon realized he had been just tossed across the room and into an opposing wall headfirst. Bluestrike was strewn across the floor, limbs hanging in many ways they shouldn't. His right wrist crushed beyond comprehension and use, energon leaking very lightly from the break.

After a few moments, he could see clearly again… A massive form was standing. At first, he thought it was Vault, but it was too large, much too large, and of different dimensions…

Oh, the scene was all too great.

* * *

Jetfire moved rather swiftly through the halls, as he always did. It was rather silent except for the sounds of his own footsteps. He had made well sure Optimus was in recharge before leaving; otherwise he may have gotten up after he left and continued working. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it. Jetfire learnt to keep his eye on the commander until he was offline after about the fifth time Optimus Prime had snuck out. Now he just had to find Roadstop or Gundraw. Both were rather experienced with battle reviews. 

And speaking off, he heard a door down the hallway open up, and saw a slim, red and white femme Autobot step out. She was a flyer, definitely. A sharply ended red visor was pulled over her small face. Her jet wings, actually much longer than most, were attached to her back facing downward. In a strange way, it reminded Jetfire of an Earth insect…

If he could smile outwardly, he would've.

The femme turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. After a few short seconds of a rather confused silence, Jetfire was nearly toppled back of the force of being almost tackled and put into a rather strong bear hug. Even if he was more experienced, boy, did this little Autobot move fast! The shuttle chuckled, returning the embrace. After a few seconds of silent greetings in the form of a big hug, both pulled back.

"Gundraw! I was just looking for you." Jetfire said, folding his arms over his chest in a casual manner.

Gundraw stepped back slightly, giving a quick salute. She may be Jetfire's companion, but he still remained a superior officer. It usually mattered little when alone, but it was still a rather annoying reflex.

"For what, _sir_?" The flyer asked in a slightly joking manner.

"I need you to…" Jetfire replied, leaning in slightly, even if emotionless due to his face mask, his vocals held a playful tone, egging on Gundraw.

Gundraw echoed the action, hands behind her back, leaning toward him a tad, a very light smirk over her lips.

"Yes, sir?" She asked.

"Go down to the fifth level and…" Jetfire paused again, waiting for the right moment, inclining a tiny bit in again.

"Yes… _And_?" Gundraw asked, again copying his action, until both of their faces were mere inches apart (Considerably nose to nose- err…battle mask in transformer size)

Jetfire nearly gave the impression of a grin under his mask and visor.

"Read the battle report of Velocitron. Should take you a few hours. Summarize it up for Optimus, too, would ya'?" He replied quickly, stepping back and patting her on the top of her helmet playfully as her expression changed instantly.

Before the femme could retaliate, Jetfire began to walk down the hall rather swiftly, calling back at her, "Good luck, soldier." He taunted

Gundraw scoffed, snorted, and gaped at him, shoulders brought up hunched, "Jetfire! Uh- Jet-! Why would-" she stuttered incoherently. It was not at all the answer she had expected, and he just loaded her with half a ton of work in about three seconds, "Jetfire! That's Roadstop's JOB! He-" She sighed, the shuttle turning around the corner without a word, but hissed in annoyance, fists convulsing through the air in wild gestures of anger.

As Jetfire continued to his own quarters, he snickered quietly. He loved the expression on the femme's face when she became angry, confused, and shocked at the same time. And the reaction was enough to make him use all of his strength to not burst out laughing. The Second in Command heard a piercing bang, which made him stop dead in his tracks. He looked back promptly, and sighed.

"Slaggit. She destroyed another door…" the shuttle muttered, "I outta take away her grenades one of these days…" he quickly resumed his pace, so he would not have to take any blame for it, or at least deny it…

* * *

_Approximately three Earth months later…

* * *

_

Starscream stretched down over the recharge table, arms tucked behind his head, null laser leaned against the wall beside him. It was great to rest. Indeed it was. Only within the last 500 odd years had he rested so well… It seemed everything was going on so smoothly, it was almost unbelievable. The commander let his optics fall offline, waiting for a blissful recharge.

_Screeeeeeeee..._

Recharge would have to wait. Starscream's optics grew bright at the sudden noise. His head turned towards the door. It was locked from the inside. He had come very accustomed to locking and bolting the door to his quarters, despite no valuable objects were ever kept within it, but for his own personal satisfaction.

Maybe it was Gravezone trying to play a trick on him. The younger Decepticon had done it before. No, but… He remembered seeing his second go off to the other side of the planet to check on a storage area.

The commander sat up, surveying the area sternly. No one had invaded the area, but the long, audio-piercing noise had him a bit on edge. Starscream stood, marching to the door and checking the locks swiftly. All in perfect function… Well, that provided a slighter amount of comfort. It was not the first time he'd felt alert like so. There was a time a few years back when he heard a thump outside the door. It only turned out to be Demolishor dropping a large load of scrap parts on her way to the docking bay… That little incident had left Starscream with his wires crossed all night. He usually asked- or more or less- commanded, that the hall be kept quiet during the night.

Another noise. Very short and scraping, like something being moved. But the noise was closer this time. And not muffled.

It came from this room.

Starscream whirled around on his heel, first noticing his null laser was no longer beside his table. He was left unarmed. Even he, a hardened Decepticon leader didn't usually keep an arsenal of weapons with him at night. It was too dark to see much, he had ordered off the lights, which he soon planned to take care of.

"Lights." He rasped, But nothing happened, "_Lights_." Again, nothing,** "Lights!" **he finally shrieked, a wave of panic started to settle in.

Starscream heard a very familiar sound of a gun charging up its energy. The flyer looked again, only seeing the smallest of outlines across the room, standing. It was a frightful form, almost invisible in the dark, the very light glow of wickedly orange optics was the only distinguishable thing of it. But there was something cripplingly familiar about it… Such a stern look, one that would make a small Decepticon cower, and few large ones wince. It had been optics he had seen for centuries…

"Mega-" Starscream whispered incredulously, the horrible thought had dawned just as the weapon fired at him, a square hit to the chest. He had no time to scream, and fell to the floor, optics flickering out quietly.

_To be Continued…_

_

* * *

_

Yay! I mean... oh dear. Poor Starscream.

There it is! I would have updated a day earlier, but the computer was being mean... And fear not! I shall use Wikipedia and start maybe explaining what happened to the old characters of G1 (Though many may just end up dissapearing...). Oh, and an apology to Master Solo. I get names very easily confused, and I got a moment of ADD when writing my author's notes... By the way, I am also a girl, and I have been called by a wrong name before... (I.e. Stargate and Stairdust...) So you are not alone... I go nuts and fangirl-ish also. I even have the Squee of Doom!

Also, YES. Demolishor IS appearing as a GIRL! Beware my sick, twisted mind... Bwa-ha-ha! R&R, thank you!


	4. Suprise

Hello. Sorry for the long, long, LONG wait for an update. School ended and I was basking in the beggining of Summer... This chapter we actually see a hint of what happened to Starscream, but more is to come on this. I just had to update... so...

Disclaimer: I only own Steelbar, Cutdrop, Gundraw, Gravezone, Roadstop, Bluestrike, Vault, and thebase of Qopmac. The rest is copyrighted, pretty much. Now read like your lives (or sanity) depends on it!

* * *

**Transformers: Break Down**

**Chapter Four: Surprise...**

The Autobot Steelbar was standing quite still at his position; back straight, arms at his side, feet together. At a first glance, he looked a bit strange with such bulky, deep green and cloudy blue limbs. Attached to his back was a long, metal pole of interconnecting joints, a metal hook hanging from its tip. To most who knew him, he stood so straight because he was just as serious.

He was among one of the oldest at the Qapmoc base, most had guessed about ten million years young in Earth time, though as most transformers, did not show serious signs of aging. Though, of course, the light chipping of various corners of armor, repair scars, and a rather different design pattern to younger Autobots were little giveaways.

It was rather calm today… The Decepticons hadn't attacked Cybertron directly yet, so the base was quiet. It was only about fifty earth miles to the main headquarters, so it was unlikely to be attacked. Steelbar sighed. Something bad was gonna happen. On good days, always something BAD happened.

He looked up at the empty, pale red sky, and quickly checked his internal clock.

Steelbar sighed, tapping into his com-link, "Cutdrop, you are supposed to be taking your shift right now. Get over here, soldier." His tone grated.

A series of electronic blips followed as a reply, Steelbar knew it was the Autobot in question. The younger Transformer was constantly practicing old Cybertronian (for what reason, he didn't know) and it was quite annoying. Though Steelbar knew the general topic of what he was speaking, it became a constant annoyance when there wasn't a word he understood.

-Sure thing. Be there in a moment.- It roughly translated.

"Good. Do so."

Steelbar waited… And waited… And waited. Now he was annoyed.

"CUTDROP!"

-Yes?-

"If you're not here in two minutes, I'm going to send you to meet Primus." He growled darkly into the link.

-Well, now you're just being cranky about it. Maybe you should try a good cube of-

"NOW!" He roared into the com-link.

"Yes, Sir!" The Autobot yelped in the appropriate language, quite obviously shocked by the tone.

He cut the link swiftly, and looked around the base's balcony area. It was simply a jut of steel from the face of the building, and simply there to keep an eye out. It wasn't so great Qapmoc had no radar or sensory systems, and so they had to rely upon stationed Autobots and a network of com-links and radio-transmissions.

His thoughts scattered at the sounds of roaring engines overhead. Or, more or less, right in front of him.

From a distance, the oncoming mass might look like a speckled, multicolored cloud, but it slowly became clear they were various planes, shuttles, and jets. Yet to Steelbar's memory, there was no scheduled Autobots flying overhead in such a mass.

The old Autobot recovered the temporary shock of such a fleet, but he swiftly opened his com link.

"Attention! Steelbar reporting! Decepticon fleet approaching fast, a few hundred of them!" He bellowed coarsely, and turned to the door that led down into the base.

* * *

Starscream felt a whir of coming back online, his systems felt drained, strangely… After a few minutes of partial consciousness, he realized something was wrong. His optics remained offline, and according to his sensors, it was too dark around to see much anyway… 

_A systems check…That will do…_ Starscream went through his own CPU, checking his status swiftly.

--_35 percent energy stream_. -- Something was cutting it low…

_--95 percent software functional. --_ His motor skills should be working by now… what was the missing 5 for?

_--0 percent lower awareness. -- _What!

The seeker's optics flickered open, still blind in a sea of enveloping darkness. He felt restrained somehow. It was a claustrophobic sense… Why couldn't he stand? Nothing was above him, nor did he feel pain in his legs…

No lower awareness?

The flood of events before becoming offline forcedly came back to him from his memory circuits. Had he really seen the old –and frankly- DEAD Decepticon leader? No, he couldn't have. Starscream remembered well of the death. It was one of the last battles, He was in the sky when he watched Megatron, down below, transform from the hand of a subordinate back into his robot form, only moments later to be shot down.

Starscream ignored it, after all, the D-con leader than was not one to be down for long, much for his distaste…

But at the end, as both sides retreated, someone was missing; Megatron was nowhere to be seen… And as soon as it was confirmed that he was now gone… Starscream stood, claiming himself the leader, due to his rank being the second highest. It was rather a reluctant rise to power, at first, it seemed to be a mistake, and Starscream fared no better than Megatron during his rule, but soon…

The Seeker's tactics of speed over power soon caught the Autobot areas off-guard, and defenses were broken easily… Within 50 years of a stalemate, the Decepticons began slowly pushing the Autobots off of Cybertron, and scattering them into space. Now, Decepticons ruled a rough 78 percent of the planet, the Autobots clustered up near the northern pole. In fact, Starscream had been planning to soon bombard the area, and sweep them off the map for good.

But now… what had happened?

* * *

Optimus stood stock still at the image upon the computer screens. An entire fleet? All in formation, all bearing Decepticon symbols. This couldn't be. No, no, no, no, no! They could deal with the occasional outburst of Decepticons, but… such an enormous group of seekers and battleships? 

"-Optimus!" barked a voice, apparently having to have repeated himself many times before catching the attention of their leader.

After a noise of confusion, the Commander looked to his right, spotting their top technician, "Yes, Roadstop?"

"Sir, I have issued the scramble alarm. As per protocol. I have also found the current leader of the Decepticon fleet heading to our base." The Autobot said brusquely.

"Starscream?" Optimus Prime guessed first, the video feed loading quickly. Roadstop shook his head as the image came back to life.

At the nose of the large formation, was a grey and black jet. A seeker well known as simply Starscream's second.

"Gravezone…" Optimus mused, "We need every soldier available, Roadstop. How long ago did you issue the scramble?"

"… 45 seconds, Sir."

Prime turned his head at the sound of the hissing door to the main comp room, Jetfire barreling in, coming to a quick stop behind the commander.

"They're 1000 meters and closing, Optimus. They'll be within firing range in the minute."

_... To Be Continued._

* * *

I promise that within the next few updates Gravezone will be talked about more. Along with Demolishor (I know quite a few people want to learn about the brand new Femme! ) And What happened to Starscream, plus... the NEW Megatron! It will also get more violent-ish soon, considering there's going to be a battle up soon! That's your teaser comment for the next chapter. remember to reveiw, because it makes me feel good and than I like to update a bit more. 


	5. Scream

I have got to be the slowest updater ever... >. But here it is, I wanted to make it longer than usualy, I get tired of 2000 or less words per, so this is over 2500 words now! yay! I actually wished I could put inmore... but I decided this needed to be submitted, now.

Disclaimer: I Don't own Transformers yet (I shall someday! Bwa-ha-ha-ha! My hopeful dream) But I do own the characters GraveZone, Bluestrike, Vault, Inklight, Skeptic, Roadstop, Cutdrop, Steelbar, Reset, Gundraw, and of course, our brand-new femme, Demolishor. Laugh at his misfortune!

Notes: I finally explained the fate of a few Transformers. But since I know actually little about G1 and the Decepticons, it was tough, so I came up with about 6 or so... I know, I know... But I reveal what happened to Starscream, and the battle has started! Now Read!

* * *

**Transformers: Break Down**

**Chapter 5: Scream**

A simple and enjoyable task.

Only just hours before the attack, Reset had located the base where Optimus Prime was currently lodged... Along with several other Autobot officials. It was a jackpot.

Oh, how much he enjoyed to destroy them…

"Inklight." The Decepticon barked into his link and within moments a grungy yellow and black jet draw up alongside his right.

"Yes, Sir?" the said transformer asked in his ordinary, calm tone.

"Bring the right flank around to the rear of the Autobot Base. Fire on my command."

"Yes, Sir." With that, the Decepticon pulled off in the air, a trail of several jets followed him.

"Gravezone." Another Decepticon called in a tone of acknowledgement and questioning, the one settled behind him.

"Report, Skeptic."

"We have Autobots trailing in. All land-based."

"Their numbers?" Gravezone asked.

"Less than a hundred." Skeptic replied.

The grey and black jet laughed at the words, "Forget about them. We shall have to deal with them at a later time. For now, we are in firing range. Bring down the back to ground level. Have them begin the attack."

Gravezone felt a wave of confidence in his shell. Yet again, he commanded an entire army, all for the Decepticon Ruler… This fleet was put into action as soon as the shipping of new artillery was finished. Just as Starscream prearranged.

* * *

As for the Commander himself, he could not feel worse. The dark had not risen, and his internal clock told him he'd been active for almost half an Earth hour. There was some reason to this, and slaggit, he would figure it out! The confines he could not figure out, the emptiness… The unsettling claustrophobia…

Finally, the weighing pounds of fury burst, and Starscream did as his name proclaimed, and screamed purely in rage. His howl echoed within the room, testing his own audio receivers as how much noise they could withstand. After what felt like a cycle in burning wrath, his scream died down, his own vocalizer exhausted at the strength and volume of his last outburst.

It did him no good, aside from the obvious venting of his emotions. He cursed his failing established façade. Starscream was ready to almost scream again, but the sound of a hissing door, the faintest glow of lights outside of this room, which revealed enough to tell that the room was relatively small, barren, and indeed his fear. But within moments, the door closed, plunging him back into the gloom, but in that time the entrance was open, a form entered.

"Who are you?" Starscream nearly shouted out in the darkness, if he had flesh, his knuckles would be turning white as he curled them into fists upon the titanium casing of his confines.

"I think you know that answer, Starscream…" A calm, deep voice replied. And it was true, the seeker knew, but he just couldn't process it so easily.

Without wait for a reply, the voice continued somewhere in the dark, no noticeable direction. Somehow, Starscream's sensors were being tricked into thinking… the voice came from everywhere.

"You have obviously upgraded your weapon, subordinate… You were rendered unconscious far faster than I thought… The settings have changed..." The voice stated, as if uninterested in such facts.

Starscream's optics continued to scan the endless black, still searching. "Megatron…" the seeker hissed darkly, almost having to force the unused word from his sore vocalizer.

* * *

Jetfire jumped as the wall beside him cracked, letting the smallest fissure of blast energy into the hall from outside. Dear Primus, it had begun.

The shuttle reached the scramble bay within moments, Autobots of all types arming themselves, and proceeding outside. It was to no surprise that Optimus Prime was already there, directing troops, and to no doubt, preparing himself for the ensuing battle.

Swiftly, Jetfire approached, "Optimus, Roadstop has giving us an estimate on the Decepticon numbers."

"And?" Optimus responded edgily, still obviously on nerve.

"They have a horde of almost 500. Sir, we only have 298." Jetfire replied wearily, following the commander as he began to head for the opening through the rushing groups of Transformers.

"We have to try, Jetfire. If it gets out of hand, we order a retreat, and regroup elsewhere. Roadstop has issued out for airships in case of it." Said the larger Autobot in an almost breathless tone, (If that is possible…) not looking back to his second.

Jetfire watched the commander, and after a silent pause, continued to trail Optimus.

"Optimus, a lot of us have noticed the Decepticon's attack patterns lately-"

"I already know their patterns, Jetfire. I spend half my time studying them." The leader replied wearily from behind his battle mask.

"Than you know their focusing attacks on _your_ location?" Jetfire questioned haughtily. It was enough for Prime to stop in his tracks, and stare back at his second.

It was a truth he already knew for quite sometime, but it was the least of his worries, so his mind components listed it deep, far from the surface of his thoughts.

Jetfire, before Optimus could retort to it, continued, "The last ten battles have all been faced to where you are. Somehow, they are figuring out your position. Optimus Prime, they're trying to get you." His second's voice hissed, stressed with worry.

Though the commander seemed unmoved.

* * *

"Nice to see you still remember me, Starscream." Replied the tyrant, seeming to seat himself nearby, though the seeker could only tell by how the height of his optics shifted to a lower position and the lightest noise of creaking metal.

"Where am I?" Starscream asked through gritted teeth, all calmness lost to make way for ire.

Megatron pretended not to listen, "Was there ever a doubt in your mind that I would not be back, especially with _you_ leading _my_ armies? I am not vanquished so easily…"

The seeker felt uneasy at the statement, but the forbidden emotion was cast aside as his voice cast with venom, "For 500 years, things went far more smoothly, Megatron. Amazing, isn't it, that I have won where you have failed many times?"

"I already know you have not yet won the war, but you have been incredibly lucky-"

"It's far more than luck, Megatron…" Starscream snapped, "I am better."

"Than, why, oh why, is Optimus Prime's head not hanging on a wall?" Megatron mocked in a calming tone, a definite difference from his usual rage-filled spark.

Starscream knew better, the deadly calm voice was meant to scare him. And sadly to say… It was beginning to work, as his usual malice had been squashed at the heat of the words... After the moment of complete stillness, the tyrant had risen from his seat.

"I have yet to know all the changes that Cybertron has gone under without my presence, and for that reason, you remain alive." Megatron continued in a dark murmur, the only sign of movement was his optics traveling from one end of the room to the other, approaching in the bottomless black.

"I would never comply to help you, Megatron. Such a pity, since codes have changed since your death." Starscream hid a smile in the dark, reflected ever-so-slightly in his optics, a mockery against the 'mighty' Megatron, "I give you the best of luck. You shall need it." He continued, releasing a pleasant chuckle.

"I don't believe you shall have a choice. Believe me, I only need you for one more appearance before… disappearing… forever. Than I only need your memories, which would be easy enough to extract. Complying willingly would save you a great deal of pain, in more ways than losing a few circuits." Megatron returned the cold laugh.

Starscream sat dead quiet for a moment, egotistically hurt by the last of Megatron's replies.

"Now… I just need to find some of my more loyal subordinates, and I can get right to work."

"You mean as in Soundwave, maybe?"

"Yes, Starscream. I need-"

"He is gone." The seeker intervened swiftly, his grating voice remained calm. Now it was Megatron's turn to be still.

"What?"

Starscream stifled back a chuckle at the confused tone of the tyrant, "He has been dead for almost 530 years."

"Shockwave, then?" Megatron asked in slight hope, oh how the seeker would crush it underfoot.

"He has been missing."

"Thundercracker and Skywarp?"

"Gone off to colonize a planet a few universes away for me."

"You mean for _me_, now." Megatron growled in correction, "What about those Insecticons or the Constructicons?"

Starscream shrugged in the dark, "Most have left, too. Or have been killed in battle. And I hope you are not going to be drilling me on who of your army is still left." He irritably replied.

"Who do you have left, than?" Megatron finally burst in frustration.

"My own army now." Starscream replied, never losing its own pompous tone.

Megatron grunted in annoyance, and remained silent for now, "And so… where are these _wonderfully skilled _Decepticons now?" He asked spitefully, his orange glare returning to the seeker.

Starscream paused, and almost smiled at the fact that now, he was about to upset Megatron greatly. In a very light, nonchalant tone, He answered.

"They are off to kill Optimus Prime."

And surely enough, the bot before him stopped dead yet again in his tracks, and the ridges of is optics dropped slightly, giving what a human would describe as a glower through narrowing eyes.

"What did you say?" Megatron asked in almost an unbelieving hiss, "Call them back."

Starscream smiled slyly, happy it remained in the dark, "I cannot do that from here, Megatron."

"No matter, I shall deal with it myself. You'd be surprised what I can do even now."

The seeker raised an optic ridge, "How, Megatron? You have no ways of tricking them into thinking it's me in any sort of transmission."

"Ah, but it shall be_ you_ transmitting to them, Starscream." Returned the tyrant, still as a statue in the gloom.

But the seeker simply laughed quietly, "I would never do such a thing, Megatron. The Decepticons could win the war by destroying Optimus Prime, along with the precious Matrix. That should give you joy."

Megatron seemed to close in, leaning inward, closer to head-level, orange optics narrowed to fiery slits, "No. No, it does not. I am going to destroy him myself." His voice was reduced to almost an angry groan, grating in Starscream's optics.

With that word, on some sort of unknown command that Megatron had given, a dim electrolyte overhead flickered on, showing the stripped walls all around them, the floor grey and dank, stained for years of misuse. But what caught Starscream's horror-fixed gaze was what lay in the corner.

_No lower awareness… _Slag… In the corner laid his legs. His legs. Megatron had taken his legs. And now Starscream looked down upon himself when he could not before. He was literally lying in a bed of wires, ranging in all various sizes, coiled around his waist, and attached to his lower torso. He returned his optics to his legs, his features written in complete horror. Mech fluids and Energon had dripped down from the opening at where it had been disconnected, very roughly in his guess.

Megatron only smiled crookedly down at the seeker, absorbing the sudden fear to feed his own spark.

"And I know exactly how to make you call off the battle, Starscream."

* * *

As giddy as an Omnicon finding his first huge horde of Energon, Gravezone ordered the first wave of fire. The first five rows of seekers behind him opened fire, a barrage of lasers falling in a wondrous arc to the Autobot base below. It easily blew away the entrance, opening into the cavernous docking bay, the transformers below began return fire, and the formation broke, as planned. Inklight's flank opened fire, catching the back of the Autobots foundation, precisely at the fuel tanks. Gravezone was lucky he deafened his audio-receivers; the sound alone seemed to rattle the air. An explosion occurred as the energon fuel easily was caught in the lasers of the fellow Decepticons. It blew away easily 30 percent of the Autobot base.

Ordered chaos. The grey seeker still within his aircraft form began the decent, tipping right and dropping, as the ground drew within 100 meters, he transformed, and quite easily dropped to the ground, activation boosters enough to hover from the land, and land without a scratch. Raising an arm, he fired into an Autobots nearby, making it drop to the ground in stasis lock.

Skeptic dropped in beside him, a senior Decepticon technically, he was still of lower rank, now within his robot mode. His armor was a soft violet and royal blue, face covered in a heavy helmet that enveloped all of his features except for the lower lip of his mouth, like an odd puppet. Skeptic's disc-like wings attached to his bulky lower legs; otherwise, his frame was thin, as much was enveloped by his legs in jet-mode. He was rather a closer ally of the Air Commander's, and so, became a sort of right-hand bot to the right-hand bot.

Both headed for the nearest scrap of cover, an out of place piece of metal flooring that had been blasted upright, and so started a return of laser upon them.

"Skeptic! Track Prime's position and convey the data to me." Gravezone barked, firing off another small round to a passing Autobot.

"Doing so now." Replied the seeker in his moderately calm but rushed tone, "126 meters away." He silently broadcasted through the com-links the needed statistics to his superior.

"Good job, Skeptic. Find Demolisher, she should have come in on the air-craft. Tell her to back you up."

Both turned at a heavy crunch to their right, and toward them came a tawny-brown Cybertronian equivalent of a tank, obviously its track had run over an enemy Autobot, now spiraling out from underneath it.

"I believe she has just arrived." Skeptic replied, pointing one of his slender fingers in the direction of the tank.

The large vehicle transformed, running forward to the cover, her fingers pointed to the nearby Autobot, releasing rounds of lasers from their tips. Affective and odd… Finally, the femme skidded to a clumsy halt beside the two, and gave a rushed salute.

"Demolishor at the ready, sir!" Said the tank in a strangely deeper voice than one would expect of a femme, but it was no longer a strange thing to the seekers.

Gravezone nodded in acknowledgement, "Cover Skeptic, Demolishor. I'm going to go ahead with the second phase. _Take out Optimus Prime myself._

"Yes, Sir." She responded, and instantly got to the fight, gaining a better stance, she fell to a kneeling position to steady herself, and her arms rotated backwards, the missiles on her shoulders facing squarely ahead, her gauntlets resting on top, her gun-fingers faced straight. Instantly beginning fire upon the enemy.

As soon as Gravezone knew the two were set, he began his ascent, transforming with ease, and began his tracking of Optimus Prime.

**To be Continued...**

* * *

Bwa-ha-ha! Here is the news on Demolishor, since it felt silly to decribe her in the middle of a battle: She basically looks alike to her Armada Varient, aside from being female, and maybe a bit smaller. XD But still with the weird eye. I find it funny-looking, so it's still there...

Gravezone finally gets his lime-light! Yay! There is a mention of Omnicons, so... that concludes I'm combining different generations a bit, here... >. This is almost a different universe within itself, so I see no problem why...

Now, please, if you enjoyed it or want to help me with something that I've already written here, please do so. It's be nice. Reveiw, basically.


	6. Flee!

So very, very... Short... Sorry, but I have been neglectful of updating, and yet this has been laying around for quite a few months, unfinished and feeling gloomy... I figured I may as well put up this old writing as start with a clean new document...Forgive me and don't eat my brains!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or it's copyrighted characters. I Do own the Original characters in here: Skeptic, Cutdrop, Steelbar, Gundraw, Inklight, Roadstop, Bluestrike, Vault, and to a lesser extent, Demolishor, due to it's just a reuse of a name. Now he's a she. Ha!

* * *

**Transformers: BreakDown**

**Chapter Six: Flee**

On the ground, heading north toward the Autobot base under assault, an entire flock of Autobot vehicles had taken off, currently trailing the wake of the Decepticon fleet.

Somewhere within the midst of the rows and rows of transformers, how ever little there army was in comparison, moved along a Cybertronian Construction Vehicle, if a human were to lay eyes upon it, it would look similar to a construction crane, although the crane was inlaid between three sheets of thick metal, as to make it look like an odd arm based off a truck with 8 wheels.

Beside it going over the metal terrain, was a three-wheeled vehicle, adorned in White and canary yellow with trims of black, it was quite literally three times smaller than the automobile it drove up beside.

The 'motorcycle' beeped a few times to the 'crane', just audible over the roar of collective engines.

"No. I don't know how we're going to help, but the base leader commanded it, and so we're off to help." Growled back Steelbar in vehicle mode to the smaller Cutdrop.

-I'm just saying, there's a lot of them, and not many of us. - bleeped back the little Autobot.

"Could you please stop talking to me with those beeps and blips?" the crane returned irritably.

-You can understand me. - Cutdrop replied, the bleeps taking on a sour note.

"Barely."

A moment of silence passed as they continued in pace with the rest of the group. Steelbar's unnoticed gaze aimed straight ahead, hearing before them a large explosion and communal firepower.

Suddenly, Cutdrop began to beep frantically. Steelbar, for once, could not understand him.

"What did you say?" Steelbar asked irritably, "I told you, stop with that-"

"Incoming!" Cutdrop finally blurted correctly, and with that veered off to the side swiftly, and Steelbar's vehicle form saw quite well what was coming. A very large barrage of laser fire.

"SCRAP!" Steelbar yelped, slamming on the brakes, sending the Autobot behind him into his bumper with a resounding crunch, but stopped swiftly enough for the bombardment to miss by a few meters, but the few in front of him were not quite as lucky.

As the smoke and debris cleared, a practical scrap mound was before them, at least ten of their flank had been caught, a few continued bumpily, though quite a few of the survivors looked quite injured, a wheel rotating out of place, or transforming to collapse on the ground.

Cutdrop had already transformed, looking onto the field before them. They had all stopped dead in their tracks… Steelbar transformed, unsteadily standing, mainly shaken from being rear-ended. His face still held stern, and looked on farther, still seeing the ensuing battle. The Decepticons that had first assailed them had already returned to the heat of the conflict. They still needed to help. Still needed to be out there fighting.

And slag if something like this would give him cold tires.

* * *

Gravezone moved swiftly, ignoring the surrounding battles, now in robot mode for a stealthy approach. Already, many of his warriors had transformed, landed, and ensued melee combat. No. Not his soldiers… 

Starscream's.

This swiftly reminded him, he was not to kill Optimus Prime (despite how much he would want to). No, but to attack him to within the last few inches of life, where he could barely stand upon his own two feet. And his commander would be waiting… and take that portentous Autobot out himself. Yes, to swoop in on a blaze of glory… But Gravezone had heard no contact from Starscream. Had something gone wrong maybe?

The seeker shook the thought from his head, continuing past the carnage swiftly, only returning fire as he passed Autobots. Starscream would arrive on time, no doubt. Perhaps he was just not risking the transmission to be overheard. The rubble now streaked the battlefield, forming blockades, barriers, and ditches. But no matter. He was closing in on the target, even his spark felt ready to explode from his chest at the build-up of tensed energy.

Optimus Prime, prepare to meet the creator...

* * *

Much of Starscream's façade had fallen away, his lip components held in a rather terrified grimace. And Megatron could see that far too well. The Decepticon only stood a foot away from the edge of 'bed' of wires, and thought the seeker could not see it from his vantage, he realized he was elevated, as if in a bowl, swimming amongst these steely tendrils. 

"You propose to make me broadcast a retreat?"

"Indeed, Starscream." Came that knowing purr of a voice

The seeker gave a strange, choked laugh, "I'm curious as to how you'll do so."

Megatron leaned down, reaching the 'bowl's edge and Starscream heard a click of a removed panel, within moments; Starscream felt a faltering in his energy.

_What the slag!?_ He yelped in his mind, grunting with surprise. The old commander laughed cunningly at the noise.

Megatron's heavy metal hand brought up a jumble of wires, an occasional leaking energon or sparking in electricity, "I can force you into stasis lock, even into shutdown, if I please. But for now, you still have use. Make it easier upon yourself, Starscream."

The seeker had to worry of his survival for now.

* * *

It took no time for Gravezone's optics to lie upon the struggling Autobot Leader, who was already focusing his firepower onto the barricade of Decepticons laid before him. Though he was not alone. On both of his flanks stood his lackeys, the bothersome jet and his fragging bondmate. Gravezone landed softly onto the ground, keeping out of view amongst the rubble of the first wave of fire power, hearing the rain of lasers and whines of moving missiles, the bombs exploding, and the scream of engines overhead. 

Apparently, it caught the attention of the lackeys, too. With scattered expressions (or as best Gravezone could figure from their motions) the jet took off into the sky first, before the flying Autobot looked to the commander, their conversation muted to the Decepticon in chaos, and slipped off into the ruins to fight elsewhere.

Alone… Finally.

Those daunting little thoughts in Gravezone's head vanished as he realized the time was right, though Starscream was still nowhere to be found. It was so unlike him to do this… Slag, if he didn't show up, the grey seeker would take the chance himself.

"Gravezone, call a retreat."

He jumped at the sound in his audio, the recognizable voice of Inklight. He turned round for a moment, "Repeat yourself and explain, soldier." He asked, gritting dental plates in disbelief of the words.

"I just got word from the main base- Starscream's word."

Gravezone grew silent for a moment, his optics flared, "But-"

"It's from the top, sir." Inklight repeated sternly over the com, "A retreat. I suggest you send out the signal now, Gravezone. The Commander says no more fire on the Autobots."

With a growl of disgust and annoyance, Gravezone left his position, the Autobot leader still oblivious that he was merely a hundred yards away.

Optimus sent another blast to the shield of a Decepticon, which proved useless as the metal barrage only dulled it.

He looked to the sky as a long, wailing noise came overhead, far louder than any bomb had been so far. Amidst the red skies was a small group of seekers weaving through the air, the noise originating from them. It was a recognizable sign, as those flight-capable Decepticons sent out the long metallic shriek to signify a retreat message.

And surely, several took to the sky, the dying sounds of battle as the great army of seekers left, a few Autobots sent rounds into the air, only shooting down a quaint four or five, until they had pulled above so high, their wings weren't even visible, too high for ground-to-air laser fire.

Within minutes, they faded into the cityscapes.

_To Be Continued... _

* * *

Sorry for the shortness... But I hope I can just get on to the next chapter, and hopefully my writing skills will have improved more since when I started this; you know... Just better... 

Reviews help spur me on quite a bit, so that'd be nice. Not to mention I've noticed I'm getting a very large number of hits for this story... It's cool! Fluff-balls are born when you review... Fluff-balls love being born...


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